


Maybe

by UglyTunaSandwich



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Car Accidents, Cuddling & Snuggling, FUCK, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up, Temporary Amnesia, but i dont wanna, if you see a typo no u didnt :), it's cool, lowkey wanna ask that one person to beta me at least once but i like to live so fhosahidosah, okay gonna come up with a summary now byeeeee, so i actually dont remember what i wrote hsoifhs, totally fine, ummmm probably shouldve read it again ngl, you already know there's no beta so we're dying like men broskies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29162553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyTunaSandwich/pseuds/UglyTunaSandwich
Summary: Using the same pieces of a puzzle makes the same picture. Sometimes you just need a new puzzle.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 28
Kudos: 77





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dauwtrappen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauwtrappen/gifts).



> literally wrote this for funsies. originally from dauwtrappen's big brain thread.

Maybe never. 

That’s what the doctor said. 

Never. What a strange concept. 

They only thought in forevers at one point. What happened?

_What a dumb question. You were there._

He was there for it all. The screaming. The yelling. The piercing words that tore holes in the fabric of their future before ripping it to shreds. 

Unrepairable. 

Years and love lost from initial causes unknown. The only things that lasted were the effects. Who needs memories, right?

So they forgot. 

Practice as usual. Games as usual. Fake smiles and faux jabs guarded the evidence of the broken pieces that lay in disarray in the catacombs of their hearts. 

The conclusion was unanimous. All objectors held their peace. 

Atsumu. 

It had to be. 

An unspoken agreement between the public of their private affairs. 

No one saw the veins in Sakusa’s neck as he raised his voice. No one saw the peeks of red creeping around the whites of his eyes as he gnawed at a leaking lip. Not one person besides Atsumu when Sakusa uttered the words that ended their relationship. 

And no one ever would. 

Never. 

“Might” prefaced the word, but it was the finality of the latter that caught Atsumu’s attention. 

Atsumu stood alone in the room with him. He watched his eyes brighten as he turned to him. 

“‘Tsumu. I miss you,” he smiled sadly. “I know you’ve been busy, so thank you.”

“Yea,” came out much softer than he intended. Much smaller. Much more broken. 

Sakusa’s luster dulled. “Is everything alright?”

Concern. Worry. How long has it been since he’s seen looks like that directed his way?

“I’m…” He took a deep breath, killing the shaking in his chest before it could be heard in his voice. His weak smile gained strength in himself. Gained strength in the belief that he could do this. He’s done so much more. He could do this. 

“I’m just tired Sa-Omi Omi.”

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

“What?” Atsumu’s eyes glistened with heavy tears, wetting his eyelashes as he blinked them away. 

Sakusa gestured vaguely at the room they were in. “You know. All of this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” was all he could muster. He took some time to look into Sakusa’s eyes. He saw them soften right before he spoke. 

“I love you.”

Atsumu’s breath hitched. His throat constricted. The air became too thick to swallow, choking him with every shallow breath. There was a time when there were right words to say. However, just like Sakusa’s memories, that time may never return. 

_Never._

His chest tightened at the thought. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” Sakusa’s soft tone jerked him out of his mind. “I know.” His lips curled upwards ever so slightly, Sakusa’s best at a reassuring smile. 

Atsumu nodded away the grip agony had on his heart. “You ready ta go?”

“Gee, I was hoping I could stay a little bit longer, I’m not sure,” he snided. 

Atsumu made sure not to miss a beat this time. “Haha, well if you say so–”

“Get me out of here, you buffoon,” Sakusa laughed.

After meeting with the doctor and handling the discharge papers at the front desk, they rode quietly to Sakusa’s apartment. 

Atsumu stepped into the genkan, feeling like a stranger in what he used to call home. He felt out of place, like a paper plate in a cabinet full of fancy China. So flimsy he could tear. 

He doesn’t hear Sakusa close the door behind him, but he does feel foreign hands slink around his waist. He jerks away from the grip, almost throwing Sakusa into the door. 

He turned around to face him, his heart pounding in his ears. “What the hell are ya....” Atsumu trailed off when his eyes met Sakusa’s, the younger man’s wide with shock. Even in the dim lighting by the genkan, Atsumu could see them begin to shine with tears. He could tell his mouth was agape with the tautness of his mask. 

“Atsumu...I’m– I’m so–”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not you, it’s me.” _I remember._

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu breathed, scratching a nonexistent itch on the back of his neck. He observed the plain wall to his right,suddenly finding it the most interesting thing in the world. 

Sakusa ran his nails across his fingertips, as if trying to conjure the right words to say. “Did you want to talk about it?”

“Nah, I think I’ll just head to my place.”

“You’re not spending the night?” came out in a rush of growing panic. 

“What?” _How much did he…_ Atsumu sighed away the thought. He dropped his shoulders as his last bit of strength left him. He kept his eyes on the wall, now blurring with welling tears. “I can’t, Omi-kun. I can’t.”

He didn’t turn to face him. He didn’t have anymore heart in him to watch Sakusa’s heart break too. He couldn’t. 

“Take care of yerself, yeah?” were his only parting words before walking out the door. 

He didn’t wait for an answer. 

– – – 

Ghosts of memories past haunted Atsumu that night. Chaste kisses and caresses stung his lips and burned his skin. Each point of contact, each smile, each laugh– they all scorched sweet moments that used to occupy his mind. 

Atsumu’s stomach was filled with butterflies, their wings tipped with poison. The sourness of their parting words laced every hug, kiss, and touch. 

How could he forgive Sakusa for what he did?

How could he resent him for something he didn’t?

Was the very fact that he was capable of what he’d done reason enough to keep his distance?

Was it purely a matter of circumstance?

Could he give Sakusa a second chance?

Atsumu’s nerves fired off incessantly without command. His gut churned like a washer set to an eternal spin cycle. He found no comfort that night. Or many.

– – – 

Was this what it was like to watch the one you love fade away? Was this what Sakusa saw as Atsumu became more distant? More quiet? Did he feel the same pain?

A spare few in Atsumu’s closest circle would answer a violent “ _NO._ ”

Atsumu’s nerves screamed the same at each failed attempt to approach Sakusa. Too long had passed. Sakusa’s memories were locked away in a box made of metal and glass, possibly lost forever in a busy intersection. 

However, Sakusa remembered a time of secret confessions of love and whispers of forever. Though he was the only one who longed for its return. Unaware that he was the one who cut the thread, and that what he saw now was the exposed ends of once binding rope. Frayed and loose beyond repair. 

He toiled away at trying to find out why his boyfriend no longer seemed interested in his presence. Why his once frequent jabs and chattering never met him anymore. Sakusa searched every crevice of his mind for fault, for undue injustice. Like searching the backyard for a puppy that had run away long ago. 

And once he came to the end of his investigation, too afraid to ask the affronted, he withered away. 

His timing for spikes was perfect. Until it wasn’t. Even the smallest second’s delay in hesitation couldn’t avoid his setter’s eye. “You’re a little off, Omi-kun. Faster next time.”

Usually first to raid the shower, more than once had he been asked “Sakusa-kun, would you like to go first?” Wallowing in self-pity took more of his time than he thought. 

On too many occasions did his stomach growl for attention, prompting “Omi-san, you must be really hungry today!” When in truth, he’d simply forgotten to eat. 

Atsumu watched him wither and shrink. Small and smaller he became, right before his eyes. His neutral expression (often misread as disdain) became tired. Then exhausted. Atsumu knew best that the next was empty. He did his best to find it in his heart not to care. 

That became the most difficult when– 

“Whaddya mean he’s not here? We still haveta get this move right! The game’s in _two weeks!_ ’”

“Sorry Tsum Tsum, we tried calling him, but he’s not answering.”

“Omi-san hasn’t really been himself lately, either,” Hinata said, almost to himself. 

“No shit, Sherlock. Bastard’s been in a car accident and got his shit rocked, nobody’s gonna be the same after that, _Shouyou-kun,_ ” Atsumu snapped back, feigning obliviousness to what Hinata actually meant. 

“Hey.” Bokuto took a step towards Atsumu, placing himself between the two. “Have you even _tried_ talking to him?”

“Oh please.” Atsumu rolled his eyes in disbelief. “And talk about _what_ ? ‘Hey Omi Omi, just wanted you to know that we’re actually exes now. Have been for a while, slipped my mind. _Whoopsie!_ ’ What a lovely thought. Can’t wait to bring that up after such a wonderful experience.” His overly expressive hands and gestures came to a full stop at the last statement; it dripped with venom and aimed straight for the heart. 

“Well it’s better than ignoring him!” Bokuto raised his voice in frustration. He’d be damned that if Akaashi taught him anything, it was communication. 

“Well what the hell am I supposed to do?!” Atsumu’s voice cracked, his vulnerability getting Meian to have the other senior team members to step back. Atsumu didn’t need this. Not now. 

Bokuto watched Atsumu’s cloak of anger fade away. All he saw was someone who was scared. Who was pleading for answers. “Maybe this could be a second chance,” he said softly, only for Atsumu to hear. 

“For _who_ , Bokkun? For who?” he snapped again, returning to a righteous anger. 

“Wh-what?”

Atsumu grabbed his training bag and left without another word. 

– – – 

Sakusa couldn’t ignore the incessant raps on his door when they became closed-fist poundings. 

“Get yer ass up, I know yer in there!”

He finally pried his eyes open, swollen and puffy from the last time he cried himself to sleep. Looking at the clock on his bedside table, that was about two hours ago. 

The dead rose faster than him as he made his way to the door, opening it and stopping Atsumu mid-session. 

“Omi…” Atsumu’s eyes widened with shock before settling into deep regret. He took sight of the sorrowful figure before him. It was easier to see him now in plain clothes. Sakusa had definitely dropped some weight, maybe not much more than a few pounds, but it was evident in the forming hollows of his cheeks and the tautness of his pajama pants, tied a few times over. His usual slouch had deepened, seeming to challenge the crescent moon. Even his hair, regularly frizzed, but mostly tidy, went every which way. If that didn’t tell him anything, the darkness under his eyes told Atsumu that Sakusa hadn't slept. Maybe not for a long time. 

Even still, the tiniest glimmer of hope shone in onyx eyes. Maybe.

“What Miya?” Sakusa did his best to sound normal. Whatever that was. 

Atsumu steeled his expression, though it was to try and hide what he’d already shown. “Why aren’t you at practice?”

Sakusa scoffed and rolled his eyes, motioning to close the door. “Goodbye.”

Atsumu wedged his foot between the door and frame. To think he’d really let him get away with this that easily. “Don’t give me that shit.”

“Oh _now_ you want to talk? Tch, figures.” Sakusa walked away from the door, making his way back to his room. 

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” Atsumu quickly locked the door upon stepping in, sloppily dropping his shoes at the genkan to catch up with him.

“Don’t act dumb, Miya.” He changed his mind and started heading toward the kitchen to make coffee, a recent and newly developed vice. No matter how fast it made his heart race, it soothed him nonetheless. “You haven’t said more than three words to me at a time since I came out.”

“Well what do ya want me to say!”

“Anything!” Sakusa slammed a bag of coffee beans on the counter, making a small tear at one of the seams.A few beans slid every which way across the surface. “I feel like…” He took a breath. Then another. A third saved him from completely sobbing, but not from dropping a few tears on the countertop above where a few beans had spilled out. A mess. It was all a mess. 

His nails dug deep into the soft skin of his palms. His knuckles were white with fury, anger, hurt, sadness, and despair. He couldn’t look up at him. He couldn’t.

“I feel like,” he started again, fighting against the bubbling in his chest and the knotting in his throat, “I feel like I’m paying for something and I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

“Omi–”

“Let me finish. Just...please.”

“Okay.”

He let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I did. I don’t know where I went wrong. But _please_ , I’m sorry.” Hiccups became broken sobs. His throat was dry from all his previous sessions, it burned with the lack of moisture. Even still, his eyes welled with tears that spilled over, racing to his jawline as he looked up at Atsumu. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Atsumu’s mind was plagued with familiar thoughts from the first night he brought Sakusa home. 

How could he forgive Sakusa for what he did?

How could he resent him for something he didn’t?

Was he the same person he was before?

Could he do it again?

Would he?

Atsumu asked the last three questions of himself as well. 

Atsumu clenched and unclenched clammy fists. Nothing but the sounds of Sakusa’s barely contained sniffles filled the air. Atsumu bit his lip in thought, feeling the scars of the many times he’d done so before. 

He took a breath that was sure to fill each of his alveoli, wanting to take as much as he could in before he exhaled. A trembling hand reached out to Sakusa, which was then encompassed by Sakusa’s own. 

_Maybe…_

– – – 

“Bye guys!”

“See ya!”

“Bye you clowns!” Atsumu called back. 

“Did you have fun?” Sakusa resisted the urge to nuzzle into Atsumu’s neck as they walked to his car. 

“Yeah, I did.” Atsumu smiled contently as Saksusa opened the door for him. 

“I’m glad.” Sakusa closed his door and walked around to the other side. Not forgetting to take a moment to give himself a small fist pump at his newest achievement. Today, he got Atsumu to smile. Not one of his fake smiles to ease Sakusa’s discomfort or to clear the tension between them. He got Atsumu to give him a genuine smile, and it was worth celebrating. 

Atsumu still hasn’t told him what he’s done. That was fair. All was in due time. He would wait as long he had to. Even if he didn’t tell him until they were old and grey and _definitely_ wouldn’t be playing volleyball. Even if he never did. It was worth it. It would all be worth it if he could see him smile like that every day. 

He gets in and drives Atsumu back to his apartment. It’s a silent ride, neither wanting to ruin the little comfort they’d created. Both too afraid to let their burning questions scorch the gentle air between them.

Sakusa gave a small smile as he pulled up to Atsumu’s apartment. “Well, there you go.”

“Yep. Thanks again for driving me, Omi-kun. Ya really didn’t have to.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” he waved off. _I wanted to_ , was trapped in the back of his throat. He killed it before it could breathe. 

“Ha, yeah, thanks.” Atsumu lingered. His hand played with the door’s handle as he sat in thought. He looked down to his lap, bashful at what he was about to say. “Hey Omi…”

Sakusa looked over at him, feeling as though he was granted the permission at last. He watched Atsumu’s other hand play with the loose threads of his jeans. He remembered when he’d smack his hand away, reprimanding him in ruining the material. It was a nervous habit of his. When his nerves ran high, Sakusa would place his hand in Atsumu’s, giving him another distraction rather than the poor fabric. Now he could only watch as Atsumu’s picking became more fervent. 

“Atsu-”

“Do you like me? As a person, I mean.” His eyes never left his lap. 

“What...Of course I like–”

“No, I mean–” Atsumu cut himself off, taking his time to rake his nails across his jeans. 

“A-Atsumu don’t–”

“I know you...you _love_ me, but Omi– Sakusa, do you _like_ me? Do you think I’m a good person?”

Sakusa didn’t know what to say. _Of course you are!_ No matter how many times he yelled that in his head, it felt like the wrong answer every time. What did he mean? Sure he was an ass at times, but that has nothing to do with who he was as a _person_. He was kind, caring, attentive, dedicated, the list went on. What did he mean? 

_Atsumu, what happened while I was gone?_

“I don’t understand the question.” 

Atsumu pensively chewed his bottom lip. He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe it was unfair of him to ask. “Nevermind.” He firmly gripped the door handle now, ready to put this conversation behind him. 

“Wait, I _want_ to understand! Atsumu, _please._ ”

Atsumu before turning back to him. He gave him a tear filled smile. It carried even more: gentleness. Kindness. Understanding. Love.

“No, Omi. I don’t think you could.”

Sakusa got Atsumu to smile twice that day.

– – – 

Sakusa flips another calendar page, puffing his chest with pride. 

Atsumu was going to spend the night. 

At least, he hoped so. From the few occasions Atsumu came over, he’d barely spent an hour or two before scurrying on. First it was blatant, baselies. “‘Samu needs this, Ma needs that.” It eventually turned into “This was fun, Omi-kun.” Too familiar parting words these days. 

Since the car incident, his mind was tormented with vicious visions almost nightly. Some came in brief flashes, offering reprieve for the rest of the evening. Others wreaked havoc on his mind, leaving him breathless in cold sweats. Some contained sound, mostly that of his own voice rattling in his skull at decibels he could never recall using before. 

All of them had Atsumu crying. All of them had his boyfriend walking away. 

He’d never let that happen.

Sakusa cursed his insecure nature and contained getting ready. Atsumu was coming over.

His heart skipped a beat at the prospect. In the past it used to be accompanied by disdain and disappointment (in himself mostly). But things were...different. Right now, at least. He let himself fall in love with Miya Atsumu. 

He took one last look at the calendar. Their two year anniversary was coming up. He remembered. 

Sakusa did his best to slowly regain Atsumu’s trust. He also placed his trust in Atsumu to open up to him. In due time, of course. He really thought that was what they needed. Time together and time apart. 

Three knocks had him walking to the door, doing his best to keep his face neutral as he was met with the blonde. 

A flurry of pink made its way across Atsumu’s cheeks. Sakusa was breathtaking. He could tell that he just did his hair, defined ringlets framing his face. He could smell the faint hint of rose. Reminiscent of the rosewater Saksusa used to refresh his curls after a wash. Oat Milk vanilla wafted from his skin. He could tell that Sakusa spent extra time getting ready, despite his efforts to look effortless.

“I brought snacks.” Atsumu gave a hesitant smile, raising two plastic bags. 

“That’s enough sugar to end our careers early.”

“Then let’s retire,” he laughed. 

_Oh god please I want to grow old with you._

“Ha ha, I’m just messin’ around. Am I good to come in or–”

“No, you’re fine. Come in.” Sakusa stepped to the side to let Atsumu in. 

“Whatcha been up to, Omi-kun?” Atsumu chirped, stepping out of his shoes at the genkan. Sakusa gingerly took the bags from his hands, trying not to show his agitation at the “–kun” that just wouldn’t fucking drop. 

“Nothing much, just catching up on–”

“Wait! I’m still behind, I’m only on chapter ninety-two!”

“Wasn’t that three weeks ago?” He cocked a brow in disbelief.

“Listen! This arc is stressing me out, man! I’m just gonna let it play out, m’kay?”

“No pressure, I’m just asking,” he chuckled. 

“Are ya ready?” Atsumu asked, a glint of excitement in his eye. 

“Ready.”

During Sakusa’s brief disappearance from the world, the second season of Kimetsu No Yaiba was released, along with a special length episode talling the season finale. Atsumu’s been helping him with the day to day– restocking his pantry, getting him back into shape, helping reorganize his apartment, etc. However, if Sakusa really wanted to (in Atsumu’s words) “feel human again,” he had to do the things he enjoyed. Things that _weren’t_ volleyball. 

“Yer not caught up on Kimetsu No Yaiba, right? Ya know they’re workin’ on season three already?”

“Yes, you’ve told me a million times,” he smiled.

“And yer _still_ behind!”

“I just don’t have the time, okay?”

“Well ya make time for what ya want. And we’re makin’ time today.”

The two agreed to a binge right after practice, giving themselves room to stay up into their next off day to recover. Sakusa was particularly pleased at the prospect, finally having Atsumu by his side for an extended period of time. No lies, no awkward partings, just them (almost) snuggling on the couch in front of the television. Hell, he might even spend the night. 

Sakusa wasn’t looking for sex, though it wasn’t unwelcome, rather than feeling of being wrapped in Atsumu’s arms again. The body heat of their closeness. He’d like to breathe in his scent in the early morning. To watch him sparkle in the rising sun.

He missed him. He missed them.

But if an anime binge night was all he could get for now, then he’d cherish every moment of it. 

They started from season one, Atsmu remarking that it was “only proper.” Sakusa had to be reminded of everything from the past, what if he missed key plot points? And so they began their journey.

They made their way through most of season one, not without a few sniffles from Atsumu and collective fanboying in the most epic moments, of course. They never forgot to utter a “Thank you, Ufotable,” when the animation touched their hearts. 

As the intro to season one, episode seventeen played, Sakusa could see Atsumu tense out of the corner of his eye. His heart pulled to do anything to comfort him. Anything Atsumu would allow. 

“Um…” he started hesitantly. “Is everything okay?”

“S’fine,” he answered, never taking his eyes off the screen. “It’s just that...thi is the episode…”

Atsumu didn’t have to finish to jog Sakusa’s memory. He remembered this arc all too well. It took one bloody nose and countless “Sorry, Omi, I didn’t mean too’s” for Sakusa to know that Atsumu was deathly afraid of spiders once one snuck into their– Sakusa’s kitchen. 

Sakusa flexed and unflexed a loose fist. His heart pounded so hard he was sure he fractured a rib. Why was he so nervous? Anxious? Scared? This was his boyfriend. But maybe…

“You want me to hold your hand?”

Atsumu stiffened for a moment before letting his shoulders drop. He stared past the television screen into somewhere Sakusa couldn’t see. “S-sure.”

“Of course it’s fine if you don’t–”

“Omi.”

Sakusa followed Atsumu’s arm to an outstretched hand. “Oh.” He gingerly took it in his own, as if scared it would break if gripped too firmly. It felt soft, yet calloused. It felt familiar. It felt– 

“Fuck, your hand’s so cold.”

“Hehe.”

“You want me to turn the air off?”

“No need, I got my own heater right here.”

Sakusa was going to look at him perplexed when he felt Atsumu’s weight against his shoulder. He could feel him shimmy around to snuggle closer. He was so cute. 

How could he forget? Atsumu ran cold. 

Memories of cold feet assaulting his own resurge. Petty arguments ending with “But I’m _so cold,_ Omi!” He remembers the early morning of the first day of winter– the blonde lying peacefully in his arms under copious layers of blankets. He remembers how beautiful he looked that day. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep that night. Or the small sniffles from the man between his arms. 

– – – 

They take pleasure in torturing his mind. In making sure he never forgets. 

The words ring in his ears on repeat. The record isn’t broken, it’s working just as intended.

He doesn’t remember most of it, though key phrases occupy his mind like twisted sports highlights. 

One in particular steals the show. 

“Oh, _please,_ you’re _far_ from the best!”

Did he say anything to that? He can’t remember.

“And you have the _gall_ to have such a shitty personality! _Give me a break!_ ”

“You said you liked my personality!”

“Listen here, you _asshole_ . The only reason you got this far with your lackluster performance and shit persona is because everyone around you pitied you. Your _brother_ , your _coach_ –”

“What about…” Did his voice really sound that broken? That fragile? “Did you only get with me cause you…”

Atsumu’s vision blurred. The warmth in his throat became a choking knot. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Maybe he couldn’t…

– – – 

Sakusa wakes up with a crick in his neck and a numb forearm. Atsumu’s sleeping soundly in his arms. It’s worth it. He’s worth it. 

He can’t help but run his fingers through the blonde locks. He always marveled at how soft Atsumu’s hair was, despite being bleached to all hell. He really took care of it. He really took care of him.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispers. “Thank you for loving me.”

– – – 

Volleyball season is returning soon. Practice picks up and they’re going harder now more than ever. 

Sakusa’s been able to mostly recover to his former glory, muscle memory saving him more than once. He’s perfectly in sync with Atsumu, almost as if he never left. 

He takes a break between spikes to grab a water bottle by the sidelines. Meian joins his side. 

“How ya feelin’, Sakusa-kun?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of his own. 

“I’m fine. I’m ready.”

“Good. That’s good,” he nodded, taking a swig. “Na, Sakusa-kun, I just wanna say I’m proud of ya.”

Sakusa’s chest bubbles with pride. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, I mean it. I’m real proud of ya. And it takes a lot of maturity to do what you did. 

“Maturity?”

“Well, yeah. Yeesh, I mean people my age break up and we can’t even go ta the same coffee shop anymore,” he laughed. “But you two, you two are somethin’ else. Ya worked together, played together, did damn well, might I add.”

He decided against a light elbow to the ribs. “Ya saw each other every day and shit, even had the balls ta get back together. Maybe yer crazy, maybe I am, but I really want it ta work out fer ya this time. I really do. It takes a lot to forgive, Sakusa-kun. Yer a stronger man than me for it.”

“I have to talk to Atsumu.”

“Yeah, go on ahead. We’re finishin’ up anyways.”

Sakusa was halfway across the court before he could hear whatever the hell Meian was saying.

They’re dreams. Visions. Lies. They never happened. They never will.

Flashes of tear-stained cheeks torment him.

_They never happened…_

“...is because everyone around you pitied you.”

_They never will._

“Locker room. _Now,_ ” he growled in Atsumu’s ear without missing a beat. 

“Is everythin’ al-wait up! I’ll be back, guys!” Atsumu jogged to catch up with Sakusa, anxiety already flooding his veins. 

Atsumu closed the door to the locker room, leaving only Saksusa, him, and deafening silence. 

“Omi, what’s–”

“Did we break up?”

“Wha-what?”

“Before the accident, did we break up? _Yes or no_?”

Atsumu lowered his eyes to his hands, already picking at the skin around the cuticles of his nails. 

“Ha! Look at this shit. You can’t even _tell_ me!” Sakusa ran his hands through his hair, giving light tugs in frustration. 

“I was _going to!_ ”

“When?! _When_ were you going to tell me?” He was yelling now, the sound of his voice amplified by the echoes bouncing off the wall. 

“‘Hey, Omi Omi, like the ice cream? Oh, by the way, we’re _exes_! Hey Omi, did ya like that movie? Just so you know, before the accident, ya told me I was a piece of shit!’”

“Because you _are!_ You were _never_ going to tell me!”

“I _was!_ ”

“No you weren’t you lying _asshole!_ ” cut through gritted teeth.

“See, _this_ is why we broke up!”

“No, we broke up because you’re a conniving, skeeving, piece of shit!”

Atsumu’s nostrils were flared, and his face just as red as Sakusa’s. His chest heaved as he tried to hold back hot tears. 

“You know how hard it was to help you?” His voice was barely above speaking level. 

Sakusa rolled his eyes and turned away. “Oh, here we go with this.”

“Omi, the day you came out the hospital, you told me you loved me. You were tryin’ so hard. _So hard._ ” Atsumu sniffled hard, tears now falling freely. “How was I supposed ta tell ya we broke up? Tha ya said the awful things yer sayin’ to me now? That I took the fall?”

“What?” Sakusa faced him again, perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone blamed _me!_ ” he was nearly screeched. He palmed his chest with both hands. “They blamed _me!_ And i took it ‘cause I knew that if they knew you were like this, they’d never forgive ya!”

“Oh prince in shining armor, coming to my rescue! You want me to suck your cock now? If it bothered you so much, why didn’t you say anything?”

Atsumu steeled his nerves and made eye contact once again. The same face that haunted his dreams allowed him to face it in reality “Why didn’t you?”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Ya didn’t have amnesia back then? Why didn’t ya?”

_They did happen…_

Sakusa forced a puff of air through his flaring nostrils before making his way to the door. 

“Hey Sakusa.” Atsumu’s voice stopped him just has he placed his hand on the frame. “Did ya ever love me?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

_And they happened again…_

– – – 

No one is prouder than Miya Atsumu than himself. No one can say that he hadn’t worked hard to get where he needed to be. No one makes the National team out of pity.

He stands tall when it’s announced, his heart full. Full of the love he’s given himself. Love that only he could give.

Practice is easier now. You don’t have to be friends with teammates. You don’t even have to like them. As long as he can stay on the court just a little bit longer. It doesn’t matter who hits the ball to help him get there. 

But as onyx eyes meet olive ones, and familiar jokes are exchanged, a part of him can’t help but be reminded of what used to be. What could’ve been. What will not come to pass. 

He comes to a conclusion:

_Maybe never will be forever._

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you are in pain!! :D 
> 
> they were trying to save you with a happy ending lmaoooo. foh, y'all can suffer XD here's a link to the original tweet (no jordan still doesn't know how to make them clickable leave me alone)
> 
> https://twitter.com/monstersbanquet/status/1351479833952473088?s=19
> 
> big brain: @monstersbanquet on twt  
> smol potat: @u_suspend on twt


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